


On the Other Side of Forever

by Nemi_Almasy



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 09:15:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12385260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemi_Almasy/pseuds/Nemi_Almasy
Summary: Short oneshot describing Avitus and Macen's relationship before Andromeda.





	On the Other Side of Forever

Avitus Rix was going to die.

It seemed inevitable as his cryo pod rocketed toward and unknown and unseen planet, toward solid ground, toward annihilation. After six hundred years of sleep, he had woken just in time to die.

It felt...strangely calm.

His only thought was of Macen.

* * *

Day one was a quiet bar on the Presidium.

The last four months had been spent aboard a turian frigate Avitus retained partial command over thanks to his Spectre status; four months scouting the Aethon Cluster for an escaped asari accused of treason. He was meant to hunt her down and take care of the problem, something the Councilors seemed to think would come easily. Four months later, he’d finally extracted her to the Citadel and he was in desperate need of a drink and a stint on solid ground, so to speak.

He didn’t have many close friends. He spent the majority of his time on missions with the crew of the frigate, but even they weren’t more than acquaintances. The classified nature of his work and his own reticence to reveal anything personal about himself meant he was most often alone. It didn’t necessarily bother him: he wasn’t a ‘people’ person, and he lived for his work. Better not to have ties as a Spectre anyway.

A lack of friends and a distaste for people meant clubs weren’t usually Avitus’ scene, but he knew a bar near the Presidium gardens that was usually quiet, and usually frequented by other turians. He preferred the company of his own species, frustrated by asari and salarian arrogance and annoyed by humans and their inability to keep quiet for more than fifteen minutes.

There were only a few other patrons in the bar when he arrived, so he sidled onto a bar stool and ordered a beer.

He still remembered how blue Macen’s eyes were when he wandered up to the bar to greet him; he had been struck immediately by how handsome he was, in a bookish sort of way. He was older, and something about him exuded intelligence and passion.

“I’d ask to buy you a drink, but you’ve already got one.”

Avitus had always been shy and overly choosy about his romantic partners; he rebuffed the advances of men while on shore leave for minor annoyances.There was something about Macen that intrigued him though, something that compelled him to give him a chance.

“Well, I’ll be needing another one soon.”

“Guess I better stick around until you do.”

* * *

Day sixty had been his first assignment since he met Macen.

Two months. It wasn’t much, but most of his relationships since he became a Spectre had been brief encounters, a few days or weeks deriving as much physical pleasure from one another as they could before parting ways for good.

Macen was different.

Sure, they’d devoted plenty of time over the last two months to _pleasure_ , but more of their time had been spent just _talking_ . Avitus hadn’t talked with anyone about so many different things in years. He could have listened to Macen talk about anything, and Macen _could_ talk about anything. He was smarter than anyone Avitus had ever met, advanced degrees in subjects Avitus couldn’t begin to understand, passionate to no-end about astronomy and geology. He dreamed of mapping uncharted worlds, of visiting places no one else had ever discovered.

His passion was intoxicating.

Avitus hardly expected when he met Macen in the bar two months earlier that he would feel so incredibly reluctant to leave him behind.

They stood together at the docks in Zakera ward to say goodbye, though so far they hadn’t actually discussed how quickly ‘let me buy you a drink’ had turned into spending every waking hour together.

“I wish I could tell you where I’m going,” Avitus sighed. “But...you know...classified and such.”

“It’s okay. The Spectre thing adds this whole sexy air of mystery to you. I like it.” He brushed his finger against Avitus’ mandible and the touch made his skin jump. “I ship out next week on a ship bound for the Terminus anyway. There are some uncharted moons we’re going to investigate and I’ll be off the Citadel for at least a month.”

“Macen, I...uh…” Avitus stared at his feet. “I’m not really a ‘feelings’ kind of guy. I don’t do this sort of stuff.”

“Look, Avi, if you want to end this here and now and go our separate ways, it’s okay. You don’t have to spare my feelings. This already turned out to be more than I was expecting.”

‘Avi’. He’d taken to calling him that without ever really asking. Others had attempted the nickname in the past and Avitus had always despised it, but from Macen’s mouth, it sounded so sweet that it didn’t bother him.

“ _No._ ” Maybe it was too forceful, too forward for such a short time. He cleared his throat and tempered his emotions. “No, uh, you misunderstood me. I’ve...I’ve really enjoyed our time together. Maybe we...maybe we could keep in touch?”

Macen’s mandibles flicked into a smile. “I’d like that, Avi.”

* * *

Death didn’t come. Cryo pods built to last six centuries and travel through dark space could take a crash-landing on an undiscovered planet. It was like clawing his way out of a coffin, but eventually Avitus freed himself.

What he encountered outside of the pod made him wish he’d never tried to get out. Everything about the place was alien, and it seemed to want him dead.

He was in hell, but there was small solace in the knowledge that SAM hadn’t transferred pathfinder duties to him. Wherever the hell Macen was, he was still alive.

* * *

Day 200 was lying in bed in a hotel room on the Presidium.

Spectres got special perks and this was one of them: beds designed with turian crests in mind, firm and supportive in all the right places; room service charged to the Council, all of the finest delicacies the Citadel had to offer, some shipped straight from Palaven.

They’d spent hours in that bed; it had been a month since they’d last seen each other and they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Avitus had dreamed about Macen’s touch every day they’d been apart; the gentle brush of his fingers against his plates, the feeling of his teeth raking across his mandibles, the beautiful blend of pleasure and emotion when Macen was inside of him.

Nothing else seemed to matter when they were together: all the bullshit politics he dealt with as the Council’s lap dog, the constant stress of the his work, it disappeared in Macen’s arms.

* * *

Day 201 was “I love you”.

* * *

Others had survived too. Gradually they made plans for survival. Every day that Avitus wasn’t pathfinder meant another day that Macen was still alive. What had happened to the ark? What had happened to the rest of the pods?

The locals weren’t friendly, flora or fauna, and food options were rapidly dwindling.

That’s when the Pathfinder showed up.

Human, not ideal, but at least one of the arks had made it, and she was ready and willing to help, despite shouldering the burden of being the _only_ pathfinder, with all of the hopes and dreams of the Initiative riding on her.

“Find Macen Barro.”

It was so selfish of Avitus, failing to consider the thousands of other turians missing or dead with the ark, but none of them mattered in comparison. He didn’t care about them, didn’t really care about Andromeda. It had been Macen’s dream, not his. He had come for Macen, and he would do everything to make sure Macen survived.

* * *

Day 1,012 was an argument.

“We’re talking about bonding and you won’t tell your parents?” Macen growled.

“They’re not like your family, Macen, they don’t... _understand_.”

“What century are they living in? Spirits, Avi. They really wouldn’t be happy for the two of us?”

The thought of Avitus’ family accepting this reality was slim. His entire life had been his mother setting him up with women he would never be interested in; his father explaining how part of considering the greater good was ‘bolstering the turian population’, as if Avitus even wanted children. He could barely stand grown adults in control of their own mental capacities: a child was even worse.

Avitus’ parents, his brothers and sisters, they _knew_ who he was, but they would never accept it. Families like his were few and far between those days. Just his luck. If he told them he was planning on bonding with another man, they would probably never speak to him again.

“Are you ashamed of me, Avi?” Macen’s mandibles twitched.

“Ashamed? What?” Avitus shook his head. “No, Macen. Never. Every day I wonder what _you_ see in _me_. It’s not you at all. I want to be with you forever. It’s just my family. They won’t ever accept it. They won’t ever accept us. It’s not ‘good for the hierarchy’.

“What a load of bullshit. I’ll talk to them if you don’t want to. They should know. They should…”

“Let’s just...drop it for now.”

“Avi,” Macen grabbed his shoulders. “I’m sorry they don’t care enough to accept you for who you are.”

“Macen, please.” Macen had always been all about feelings, but Avitus could barely muster up an emotional display; only for Macen.

Instead of saying anything more, Macen pressed his forehead to Avitus’ and gently stroked the side of his face. It was such a tender display of affection that Avitus nearly cried. What had he done to deserve this beautiful, brilliant man?

It didn’t matter what his family thought; Macen was his family now.

* * *

Day 3,502 was when Macen convinced Avitus they should go to Andromeda.

It hadn’t been much of a fight on Macen’s part. Not really. After everything that happened on the Citadel with Saren and the geth, Avitus was ready to throw in the towel on his work as a Spectre. He was tired, the Council and the galaxy at large were ignoring the realities of what had happened, the first human and only human Spectre had died, and he was running himself ragged.

He would have followed Macen anywhere; a 600-year jump across darkspace seemed worth the risk for him. Macen would have gone either way, Avitus knew, not that he would have held it against him. His first love had always been the stars: the idea of an entirely new galaxy to chart and explore was a lifelong dream now being made a reality thanks to the Andromeda Initiative. They wanted Macen to be the turian pathfinder and Macen wanted Avitus to be his second-in-command.

“Isn’t that a form of nepotism?”

“Avi, be serious,” Macen chided. “I think this would be a good use of your retirement.”

Avitus looked up from his dinner plate. “My retirement? Last I checked I was still a Spectre.”

“We both know if you don’t leave service soon you’re going to break. But I also know you too well to think you could spend retirement putting around the Citadel reading the morning news and feeding the birds.”

He had a point. Leaving behind his Spectre status was more than appealing to Avitus, but he’d spent his whole life in the heat of battle. A ‘standard’ retirement wouldn’t suit him well at all.

“You can be my bodyguard on pathfinding missions.” Macen joked.

“Hm, and keep your tent warm at night? The others will be scandalized.”

“Would you please be serious and consider this? I have to do this. You know I do. To say this is the opportunity of a lifetime is an understatement. I can’t turn the Initiative down on this offer, but I don’t want to leave without you. The thought of waking up six hundred years older while you lived out the rest of your life alone here…”

“Okay, okay. I’ll give it some thought.”

It was a big decision for everyone in the Initiative except Avitus. He had nothing tying him to the Milky Way and a strong desire to shed his title and rid himself of the Council’s influence.

Of course he would go with Macen.

* * *

Macen was alive. Nothing else explained the muddled message flashing through Avitus’ SAM implant: coordinates, an SOS call. He had survived and he needed help.

Thanks to the Pathfinder, Avitus and those who had survived the crash-landing on Havarl had been transported back to the Nexus where they were provided with food and shelter they had sorely missed, but the Nexus was in a poor state with only one Pathfinder and one colony struggling to stay afloat. At least Avitus had fully intact comms now; he was able to reach the Pathfinder and ask for her assistance.

The coordinates _had_ to be the turian ark. They _had to._

Whatever the Pathfinder had found strewn across the rest of the cluster, she at least agreed that the ark was still intact somewhere, if certainly faltering.

It was the head of the Nexus militia who provided Avitus with a shuttle off the station to meet the Pathfinder at the coordinates Macen had sent him.

“I’m coming, Macen. Don’t die on me yet…”

* * *

Day 3,812 was ‘see you when we wake up’.

It wasn’t protocol to allow Avitus to activate Macen’s cryo pod, but Macen was the Pathfinder and no one really questioned his request to breach regulations.

“I want your face to be the last thing I see before leaving the Milky Way.”

Avitus would never admit it, but he was nervous as they said their goodbyes...no, their ‘good-nights’. What would be waiting for them on the other side of dark space? What would it feel like to wake from a six-hundred year slumber?

“I love you, Avi. I’m so excited to see Andromeda with my own eyes. Don’t stay out of your pod too late after I go to sleep. I don’t want to wake up to find my mate is an old man.”

“Your mate is already an old man, Macen.” Avitus laughed.

He bent down to kiss Macen’s forehead, and Macen reached up to tweak the end of his mandible.

“I hope yours is the first face I see in Andromeda.” He closed his eyes. “See you in six-hundred years.”

* * *

Day 226,343 was “Avi. Avi. Avi. Commence. Stars.”

 

And suddenly, it was day one without him.

  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm not crying, you're crying.


End file.
